


Money

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5078065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfrid sort of takes care of the dwarves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Money

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Would anyone pair him with any dwarf for me?” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=21113343#t21113343).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

In some ways, the dwarves are infuriating—he has a whole host of new temporary masters to serve, all messier and scarier than the last—and in others, it’s a relief; he doesn’t have to be such a sycophant the way he does with the Master. Alfrid can flat out sneer at them, and they barely bat an eyelash, so long as he brings the food and clothes the Master sends, though he pockets his fair share where he can. They’re given a large wooden house bigger than his own hovel, and he goes about it with a bundle of sheets in his arms, pretending he’s changing theirs and figuring they’ll be too stupid to notice should the Master ask if they’ve been truly taken care of. He does his best not to talk to any of them. 

And then he turns the second landing and opens the door, thinking all the dwarves down in the living room chucking songs and buns at one another, only to find one still in his bedroom. He turns to look at Alfrid in a new coat, courtesy of Lake-town’s hospitality, and his brown hair all done up like a star. Quickly summoning the perfect excuse, Alfrid smarmily informs him, “I’ll just come back later to change the sheets, then.” He, won’t, of course, but if anyone asks, he has proof he tried. 

He thinks to leave before getting an answer, but the dwarf completely ignores Alfrid’s sheets and thrusts out a hand, announcing, “Nori, at your service. Alfrid, isn’t it? The Master’s pet?”

“I’m not a pet,” Alfrid grunts, scowling back and pointedly not bothering to shift his sheets enough to take the dwarf—Nori’s—hand. They’re nervier than he’d thought. 

Nori keeps grinning like it’s nothing, and retracts his hand to shove into his pocket. It’s out a second later with a handful of gold coins that make Alfrid’s eyes open wider—he wasn’t entrusted with the transport of wealth that rich. He’s not even sure the coins are _from_ Lake-town. They’re large and they look expensive, and it makes Alfrid bother to listen when Nori asks, “How much for the hour?”

Without bothering to look away from the gold, Alfrid grunts, “What?”

Closing his fist around the bulk of it, Nori holds up one coin, forcing Alfrid to look closer to his face, and chirps, “I’ve got plenty to spend and only a few days before I’m off again to what might be my last journey on this fair earth. Now, before I have to go face a dragon and get more gold than I could ever carry, how much of this gold for a go at that hot body of yours?”

Alfrid blinks, and his arms go slack. He loses grip on the sheets, which topple messily to the floor, and he _stares_ at the dwarf, half appalled and bizarrely flattered. No one in his entire life has called him ‘hot.’ No one’s even insinuated it. In fact, he’s heard quite the opposite on many occasions, though he’s become quite good at blocking that out. It stops him from completely telling Nori off. 

And then there’s the gold. The shiny, incredibly valuable-looking gold rolling between Nori’s fat fingers. Suspiciously, Alfrid takes a quick moment to eye Nori up and down, but Nori looks dead serious and not half bad. Short and fat, like all dwarves, but maybe handsome under all that, if Alfrid were at all into that sort of thing. He’s not entirely sure what he’s into, because he’s never had many options. 

Somehow, Alfrid winds up asking, “How much’ll you give me?”

Completely unabashed, Nori gestures downward and suggests, “Three gold coins for your dick.”

A part of Alfrid’s stomach flips, but the rest of him hurriedly scowls, “Three? I’m worth more than that!”

Nori doesn’t fall for the offended act, just winks and says, “Prove it.”

Alfrid’s breathing very hard through his nose. He’s never had such a conundrum before. He’s not entirely sure what ‘his dick’ implies. He has very little practice using it besides his own hand, but it can’t be that hard to figure out. And surely dwarves don’t know that much. If Alfrid’s terrible, maybe he can lie and say he’s good by the standards of Men and that’s what Nori gets for shopping outside his race. On the other hand, he could wind up getting laughed at and having to leave with no gold. He’s not foolish enough to risk his hide trying to steal from a bunch of axe-wielding warriors, no matter how short they are. Then again, maybe Nori doesn’t care if he’s bad, because Nori somehow likes the look of him, and that might be enough.

Alfrid glances down the hall, but it’s empty, save for the ruckus of the floor below. Finally, he makes up his mind and announces, stronger than he feels, “Five, and I top.”

“For the first round,” Nori concedes, with another wink and an outstretched hand.

Alfrid hesitates one more second, and then Nori’s tugging him over the toppled sheets to shove an eager tongue in his mouth, and Alfrid kicks the door shut with his boot to get them started.


End file.
